by V T Bonds
The pain, the fright, the emotional battle, it all wants to override my ability to think. I just want to rest.
“How do I know that?” I ask, fighting back tears.
“You’ll have to trust us, beautiful, just for a little while. We may be strangers, but we have no reason to hurt you,” says an unfamiliar voice from behind Dirk. A man with long brown hair with light blonde highlights steps close to Dirk’s shoulder. His mustache and goatee match his hair color, and his vivid hazel eyes show a sparkle of lightness, but nothing about this situation amuses me.
If it weren’t for Dirk’s coaxing rumble, I would have passed out from exhaustion and pain.
The nagging question in my mind, the one that, when asked to me, sent me searching for reprieve in the abyss, shoots from my mouth. “What’s wrong with me?!”
I’ve lost all modicum of bravery. Tears slip out of my eyes, stinging my burnt skin, and highlighting the pain in my head.
Dirk’s purring increases, and more soothing vibrations join his.
The hazel-eyed man runs a finger across my temple, pushing my curls out of my eyes.
“Abso-fucking-lutely nothing, gorgeous. You’re an Omega,” he says.
“Jumoke, watch yourself. You can feel her tie to Seeck. Don’t get too handsy,” Vander, the man with white and black hair, states.
The cacophony of purrs seep into my marrow and everything takes on a hazy quality. I register his name, Seeck, but the fury is too potent. Knowing that I cannot handle more emotional turmoil, my thoughts lock them in a box, out of reach.
“What’s an Omega? What does that mean?” I whisper, everything aching, nothing making sense.
The word weaves its way into my chest, embedding itself into my psyche. It feels right, but I don’t know what it entails.
“You shouldn’t be here,” a fascinating, raspy voice states from the other side of me.
Wrapped in Dirk’s massive arms, feeling the purrs in my limbs, I turn my head. Just that slight movement sends sharp streaks of lightning through my neck.
A man with coppery skin, a halo of tightly curled black hair, and rich brown eyes looks at me with a somber expression. More tears leak from my lashes, and emotion passes through his features. He steps closer, and instinct cries for me to retreat from him. From all of them.
But the purring and the strong arms cradle me gentler than anything I’ve ever experienced, lulling me to calm. The dark-skinned man, who must be Kwame, stops moving forward and puts his hands up, showing me his empty palms, holding them at his shoulder level.
“Relax, little one. We need to find better shelter and tend to your wounds,” he says. His raspy, colorful vibration adds to Dirk’s and Jumoke’s, and the triple assault wraps me in pleasantness.
As they speak to each other, the fourth man, Vander, adds his purr into the mix, and I lose my battle with fatigue. My senses float in a cottony half existence as my mind separates from my body, and the pain becomes muted. The slight relief is enough for my thoughts to slink into oblivion.
Chapter Fourteen
Vander
She looks so pitiful, wrapped in rags and wounds. Jumoke gathers every scrap of neglected fabric in the room and tosses them down in the corner. Dirk lowers her to the makeshift pad with slow, careful movements. Her groan of pain stirs our agitation, and our purrs instinctively strengthen.
As soon as she's settled within the sad nest, I close in. I use the disinfectant wipe I’ve already taken out on the back of her arm and insert the needle. The medicine slides into her veins, and within seconds she goes limp, oblivious to the world.
“She needs clean blankets and clothes. Jumoke, you get them. Kwame, go find Seeck. Keep your distance but let me know if he does anything stupid. He'll find us, when he's ready. We still have more samples to collect, and we can't leave until we fill our quota. She's coming with us. We'll need extra supplies for the return trip. I have enough doses to heal her enough for travel in three days. Dirk, bring in the rest of what we need to fix and settle her. We'll patch her up when you return. Everyone back by 0200. We'll talk then.”
They follow my orders without hesitation, and I settle next to her, listening to her labored breathing. It wouldn't surprise me if she had a cracked rib or two.
Without her striking eyes open, I study her features. Her face has the potential for so much beauty, if it weren't so covered in bruises and blisters.
I reach out with my instincts and study everything else about her. The link to Seeck is obvious, a barrier between my Alpha and her Omega, a living, seething warning. To mate and mark her would still be pleasurable, but my intellect understands the dire repercussions if I were to do so. Seeck would go feral, and either vanish or fight me. If he won, he'd kill me. If I won, I'd kill him. Worst-case scenario, we’d kill each other and leave this poor Omega with a broken bond and a dead lifemate. I wouldn’t wish that kind of existence on my most vile enemy, much less an innocent Omega.
The misery in this Omega runs deep. The gaping hole in her soul created by abandonment, neglect, and abuse oozes theoretical puss. Omegas are gentle souls, their lives focused on interactions, their emotional needs astounding. They can be viciously territorial and protective of their friends and family, so having no one grates along her aura.
Seeck wasn't wrong; this will put massive stress on our team. We've never faced an obstacle such as this.
But it won't break us. Despite the worry and testosterone and weakness this highlights, we will band together. Whatever is causing Seeck to fight the bond will fade and he'll mark her. She may be an obsession, but she's one that we will all protect. Even if the rest of us can't have her, we will protect her.
Her arrival has spotlighted each of our longings for an Omega. It's an ache we have set aside and smothered with training and will. But she's here. She's with us. We'll do all we can to keep her safe until Seeck stops being a dumb cunt and claims her.
That doesn't mean that Jumoke won't try to woo her, Dirk won't pamper her, or Kwame won't secretly fall in love with her, but she will be better off than when we found her.
She's had a rough life. I doubt it will get any easier in the next month, but at least she'll have us to watch over her from now on.
Dirk re-enters through the cloth covered door, stooping through the low frame. Supplies overflow his gigantic arms, including several sacks of purified water. We had stockpiled the rare resource for our return trip, but using it on her is a necessity. Her wounds becoming infected isn't acceptable. We can replenish whatever we use, however difficult the task may be.
We set up a sterile area, using a tarp and cleaning solution we brought with us. Then we both strip off our outer clothing, rinse our skin, and wash our hands.
Standing for a moment, facing each other, we shore up our determination. His eyes mirror the battle I am fighting within. The instinct to nurture and soothe threatens to overwhelm our mental faculties, pushing us toward pure animalism.
With how terrible and wretched her condition is, I would happily destroy the entire city in retribution. Such a frail, gentle beauty should not be in such a deplorable condition.
Dirk's pupils dilate in the low light, highlighting the war inside his mind. I can sense that my eyes have blown too.
The shadows his massive size throw throughout the room are almost as impressive as his smooth, light skin stretching taut over his bulky muscles. His bared skin gleams with sweat.
We bolster each other, knowing that we are side by side in this endeavor.
Our training never tested this type of strength, and life has never given us the opportunity to experience anything like this before. Her tie to Seeck is evident, but our Alpha urges are hard to ignore. Even though she’s battered beyond recognition, her scent is still alluring—although faint. We’ve never had to interact with an Omega that fate has lifemated to one of us, so my emotions run high around her. The pull to her is stronger than any feelings I've had toward a female.
I place a hand on Di
rk’s shoulder, showing my support, and he nods. His brow is still furrowed in worry, and I'm sure my face is reflecting the same sentiment.
We turn toward the wretched heap of misery. Dirk eases her torso up and I slip her ill-fitting shirt off, tossing it back down onto the pile of material. Her skin has patches of purple bruising everywhere, attesting to her horrible life. A large, black mark is already blooming around her lower right ribs.
She whimpers, even through the sedative, and our purrs intensify.
After some manipulation, we cut the tie on her pants, the knot to keep them in place tighter than we can undo. We pull the overly large pants off her.
Removing the clothing reveals her beautiful form, and our purrs deepen, lust tingeing the sound.
Even as banged up as she is our Alpha natures call for us to take. To claim. Her tie to Seeck thrums, and we continue moving, ignoring our needs.
Dirk sits cross legged on the packed dirt floor and lays her across his lap, supporting her head and shoulders in the crook of his arm. I grab a water sack and a few soap pellets and walk back to them. I crouch down and begin wetting her hair.
Her matted hair soaks up the water, so I keep squeezing more out of the sack until it overflows the absorbency and trickles down Dirk's side. The sand and blood coating her hair goops down, until enough has rinsed out so I can use soap. I take a tiny pellet and rub it between my wet hands, activating it. As it suds up, I weave my fingers into her hair and marvel at the silky feel of her locks.
I wash her hair, being as thorough as I can while using the least amount of pressure in my fingertips.
Her tiny groan of appreciation is the best prize I’ve ever been gifted.
Chapter Fifteen
Dirk
The cool water dripping down my body is doing nothing to lessen the heat emanating from where our flesh touches.
And there’s a lot of surface area between us.
We wet her entire body, noting the abnormal heat of her skin, then soap the areas that aren’t open wounds. Fearing that her skin is too sensitive, we forgo using a washcloth. The sight of Vander’s fingers gliding over her flesh causes intense emotions to roll through me. Her occasional moans and hitched breaths tell us of the misery the medication buffers her from. Except for the intermittent twitches, she lies unmoving, her mind detached from her pain-filled body.
With a keen sense of timing, as soon as we finish rinsing her, Jumoke returns with the clean bedding.
When his eyes land on her, he reacts as we did—innumerable emotions flicker through his mischievous eyes, and his purr weaves within ours. He eyes all the bare flesh in the room and his right eyebrow rises to its normal playful tilt.
“Damn, if I’d have known cleaning her would mean skin-to-skin, then you wouldn’t have been able to get me out of here,” he chuckles, setting the large sack beside the tarp.
I can’t withhold the warning growl that seeps into my purr.
“Look again, asswipe. It was no picnic,” I seethe, knowing that her battered and broken body will be a source of sleepless nights for the rest of my life.
Meaning for it to be a joke, he takes my advice and swings his eyes back to her, but his countenance hardens. His teeth grind in fury as he realizes how damaged she is—battered face, injured shoulder, broken ribs, and countless scars and bruises marring her flesh.
“Her back is worse,” I snarl, wishing I could go on a killing streak just to relieve my anger. The truth of her existence struck home when I saw her back—the scars and welts attest to her daily abuse.
Trying to gain control of his emotions, he turns from her, reaches into the bag, and pulls out a small towel. Handing it to Vander, he steps back two paces, swallows a few times, then forces his attention back to her body.
Our soothing purrs fill the room as Vander pats her dry.
“She’s ready for the salve,” he announces, rising from his squat.
Vander holds out his arms and I shift her to him, doing my best to keep the transition smooth. While I stand and move to the tarp, Jumoke washes his hands. I look in the sack Jumoke brought, find the softest material, and smooth it open within the clean confines of the spread plastic.
Vander kneels and lowers his arms to lay her on the makeshift bed. Before she touches the blanket, I’m on her other side, controlling her arms and legs as we settle her onto the clean surface. Jumoke has the medicinal salve open and held close by, ready for us to smear onto her skin.
The thrill of my fingers brushing over her skin taunts me to take things further, but I leash my desire and focus on what I know about her. She’s lived a life of hardship and abuse, and the last thing she needs is molestation while she’s so vulnerable. She smelled of Beta the first time I met her, but now smells of Omega. And I know she belongs to Seeck—their link seethes in warning as I touch her skin.
The open wound on her shoulder is so ragged that stitches aren’t possible. Vander slathers the salve onto it, his movements clinical yet reverent.
The salve we bring on mission is a top-secret formula. It isn’t a cure-all, but it quickens the healing process, shortening the time needed to recover. The only problem is that it uses only what’s available. If she doesn’t have the nutrients to supply her body with what it needs, then the ointment won’t help much. Hence the extra supplies and care.
Once we’ve slathered her entire front in salve, Jumoke tears open a package and passes the bandage to Vander. He covers the open wound on her shoulder.
With an ease that speaks of years together, we roll her over and expose her back.
Jumoke hisses out a curse, then redoubles his purring, responding to the horrific view. Her entire back is a myriad of scars, welts, and open gashes. Now that we’ve rinsed the sand away, crimson blood oozes from enraged, swollen lash marks.
Even though she's sedated, she whimpers as I stroke ointment onto her shoulder blade.
Jumoke growls at the sight, and I can’t blame him.
Her entire back, butt, and thighs are an ugly tale of abuse. Old scars entwine with fresh welts and open gashes. Sand rubbed many of her welts raw and a thick pus oozes from them. The long gashes on her back show signs of infection—inflammation and streaks of red branching along her veins. A few of the cuts are also deep enough for stitches, so Vander begins working on those as I cover it all in ointment.
Her whimpers and cries increase, and we work with deft fingers, purring and being as gentle as possible. Once she’s cleaned, stitched, and bandaged, we step back. Her complaints lessen, and soon she’s back to oblivion.
“There isn't much else we can do now. Let’s give her an hour or two to rest, then we’ll wake her and give her food and water,” Vander says, laying a clean blanket over her lower half.
I take the first watch, getting dressed and sitting on the floor beside her tarp. The sun is down, and in a few hours everyone will return to discuss what this means.
Without meaning to, I fill the air with my purr, offering her all the comfort I can.
**
Time passes. After I wake her, coerce her to eat and drink, and settle her back down, Vander sends me out to gather more supplies. I procure more water and retrieve a few blood samples, finding a crew of idiots to take out some of my anger. More time passes, and eventually it is my turn to sit by Seeck’s Omega again.
In the few brief hours since we’ve found her, she already looks much better. She still has a long way to go before true health, but her coloring has improved and the worst of her wounds have almost closed.
Seeck appears in the doorway, the setting sun causing his red hair to look alive. His expression fills with pain, regret, and confusion.
“You’ve washed my scent from her! What the fuck is WRONG with you?! Why does she smell like you’ve all touched her? I will tear each one of you to pieces!” Seeck yells, outrage apparent in every syllable.
“Oh, get the fuck off your high horse! Her wounds needed tending to, but YOU ran off instead of seeing to her. YOU hurt he
r and left her! So if you don’t like it, you can suck my cock!” Vander goads, his hackles raised.
I stand from my seated position, prepared to guard her if anyone loses their shit.
“I can’t be near her! She can’t come with us!” Seeck snarls, his stubbornness flashing in his deep green eyes.
“She can’t stay. You saw to that when you murdered half the town and destroyed what little hierarchy there was. She’d be dead in twenty-four hours. Besides, she’d cause a riot. Her scent is getting stronger as she heals,” Kwame points out, shielding her body with his own.
It’s true. The less severe her injuries, the stronger her Omega markers become. It’s made me wonder if the malnutrition and isolation caused the missing pieces of her puzzle.
“Fucking hell, we have to leave,” Jumoke growls, pushing past Seeck and beelining for his gear. I shift closer to the Omega’s head, making sure she’s blocked from Seeck.
Vander lifts his eyebrow at Jumoke, demanding an explanation.
“The death of the three leading males has led to destruction, worse than before. All the roaches are coming out of the works. Mass chaos. The civilians that can move are fleeing further from the center, so fast they’ll overrun us within thirty minutes. I got the last remaining samples on the way back, and a few supplies we’ll need,” Jumoke explains.
My heart bangs in my chest as my mind races. Damn it! She’s not ready for travel. Her wounds are healing, but moving will slow the process, maybe even make her decline. She shouldn’t have to travel for another two days, but her lifemate has ruined that opportunity.
Fucking Seeck.
Chapter Sixteen
Her - Unknown
Voices seep into my awareness. Elevated, agitated words pierce through my skull.
They’ve woken me somewhere between five and ten times, but not like this. Before, it was soft rumbles and gentle coaxing.
They would urge me to sip water from a straw-like contraption, feed me little bites of differing textures and tastes, and lull me back to rest as they skimmed my flesh with a strange goop. The first time one of them began touching me, I tried to fight, my past rising to haunt me, but my body was sluggish and unruly, and besides, it felt good to just float back in the strange haze. Then the awkward slimy feeling registered, but the flesh it covered tingled in an odd, refreshing way.